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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26449072">Can't run from myself, there's nowhere to hide.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostInFiction13/pseuds/LostInFiction13'>LostInFiction13</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Murder Most Unladylike Series - Robin Stevens</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Daisy's a bit broken, F/F, F/M, Murder, Oxford, University, but really it's just kinda sad, hazel swears, kinda angsty i guess, maybe one day I'll finish, the title took longer than the story, this actually hurt to write</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:14:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,800</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26449072</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostInFiction13/pseuds/LostInFiction13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>On a cold, wet November evening, Daisy Wells arrives, soaked to the skin and covered in blood, on the doorstep of two friends with one request.   She thinks she's killed someone. The problem is, she doesn't know why or when or even who it is. With the police closing in, Daisy, wracked with guilt, falls into the arms of a mysterious stranger.<br/>Can the boys (with the help of a horror- stricken Hazel) prove Daisy's innocence before her reputation (or even her life) sinks to the bottom of the River Cherwell?</p><p>Modern Au (they're all at Oxford!)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alexander Arcady/Hazel Wong, Amina El Maghrabi/Daisy Wells, Daisy Wells &amp; Hazel Wong, George Mukherjee &amp; Hazel Wong, Katherine "Kitty" Freebody &amp; Daisy Wells, Katherine "Kitty" Freebody &amp; Hazel Wong, Katherine "Kitty" Freebody &amp; Rebecca "Beanie" Martineau</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This came to me in a dream so sorry if it's a bit messy (obviously I didn't dream the whole thing I added bits)</p><p>There might be some parts or "chapters" that are  slightly more gruesome/triggering so I'll mention that in the notes before hand :)</p><p>I'm working on doing an extra chapter or something that's a bit more general or something so that if you skip the chapter you don't miss much- I don't know how well this will work yet but we'll see. </p><p>I don't think there's any spoilers for DSS in? But I haven't completely written it yet so again, if they come up I'll mention it in the notes before the chapter :) </p><p>The title is from Whitney Houston's "I Have Nothing". The whole song doesn't quite match the whole story, but certain parts (including the line in the title) definitely do. I was also thinking about "Runaway" by the Killers but this one won, obviously. </p><p>I think that's all, I hope you enjoy it and umm yeah. Let me know what you think ☺️</p>
    </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I have way to many notes on this thing, but I should mention there is mentions of blood in this chapter (and probably in most tbh because y'know it's a murder mystery). I was thinking about Macbeth when I was writing it for some reason and got a bit inspired/carried away. </p><p>Also they might be slightly out of character but I figured it's a modern setting so they'd behave different anyway.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"I need help."<br/>
Alexander looked at the figure in front of him, dripping wet, hair matted, trainers caked in mud and shaking violently and nodded, stepping aside to let her in. There wasn't really much use saying otherwise, Alexander knew the stubbornness of this girl only too well. Answering "no" or "I don't want to" was simply out of the question. Shutting the door behind her, he pointed to the kitchen, indicating they could talk in there.  Only then did he notice the red. The red on her lips, the red on her hands and the red that was snaking down the front of her leather jacket. Blood. </p><p>"Are you okay?" He asked, leading her through the small house, yelling for George to get off the phone and get his butt down here. He pointed to the blood. "That's not-" She shook her head, water droplets spraying out onto the worktops. "And it's not-" She shook her head again, somehow knowing what he was going to say before he said it. She had always been smart that way. </p><p>Feet clattered down the stairs, announcing the presence of George Mukherjee before he himself did. "Alex what's the- Daisy?!" Sliding to a stop just within the doorway, he looked at the new arrival with interested astonishment, taking in her appearance, assessing the "damage" in the way that only he (and Daisy) could. </p><p>"I need help." She said again, her voice cracking slightly as if holding back tears (not that she was, Daisy Wells DID NOT cry). As George reached into his pocket, no doubt to retrieve his phone (which was pinging nineteen to the dozen by the way, very annoying), she shook her head violently, once more spraying the kitchen and causing Alexander to go stand near George, out of the way. "No! I- I don't want anyone to know. Not even Hazel," She looked pointedly at Alexander as she said this, who turned red and fiddled with the cuffs of his (rather worn) denim jacket. Following the fiasco of the not-so surprise birthday party Daisy had planned back in July, Alexander couldn't be trusted with anything. She didn't think she'd ever forget the sinking feeling of disappointment she had felt that day, when Daisy, after Hazel had opened the door, had yelled herself hoarse, only to be met with a slight smile and a bemused twinkle in her eye. Four months later and Alexander was still covered in bruises from Daisy's pummelling that had occured moments after.<br/>
"She's busy studying for her exam tomorrow and besides, the less people who know, the better."</p><p>"The less people who know about what? Daisy what's going on? You didn't fail your exams did you?"<br/>
George hid a snort behind his hand, whilst Daisy looked mildly outraged. Surely Alexander should have learnt by now that despite not attending a single one of her lectures, instead choosing to go gallavanting off up and down the country, Daisy never failed a class. She even beat Hazel's test scores which annoyed the younger girl no end, especially as Daisy wasn't even taking the same classes she was. "So what then?" Alexander continued, elbowing George in the chest. "I don't mean to be rude Daisy, but I'm supposed to be picking up Hazel in half an hour, hopefully she's remembered, and getting to your place is going to take at least half of that."</p><p>George raised his eyebrows, going to get a glass of water, utterly unsurprised that his best friend had left everything to last minute once again. At least he hoped he had- he doubted Hazel would want to go out somewhere with Alexander in his pyjama bottoms. Not exactly the most classy outfit of the century.  Although, thinking about it, they were quite an eccentric couple. And this was coming from someone who had watched Harold get ready for dates with Bertie for years. Not for the first time, George was glad he had little interest in the World of Dating. It seemed too stressful for words.<br/>
"Go on Daisy just tell us, we won't mention it, we swear."</p><p>Sighing, Daisy seemed to deflate , picking at the dried blood on her hands, contemplating the words in her head. It was an attitude neither of the boys had ever seen on her and, quite honestly, it was terrifying. </p><p>"I need help because I think... I think... I killed somebody."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Not much really happens in this one tbh. I ramble a lot.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I apologize for the messy middle.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>George dropped his glass with a smash, shards spiralling out of control onto the tiled floor, water running in little streams here and there. He  wasn't entirely sure what he had expected, Daisy was pretty unpredictable these days, but nothing in the entire Universe could've prepared him for this. </p><p>"I'm sorry, what? You think you killed someone?" George found himself ranting, the words spilling out almost before he was able to comprehend what was happening. "Daisy, that's not just something you think! And certainly not something you announce on us without warning! If this is some kind of practical joke I swear I am not afraid to push you into the Cherwell! I've done it before and I shall jolly well do it again! And I won't be so nice towards your beloved jacket this time! I don't know why you're so worried about it anyway, it's not like you don't have 100 more." </p><p>Alexander, who had yet to even show he had acknowledged Daisy's words, finally moved to put a reassuring hand on George's shoulder, urging him to calm down as his voice neared dangerously high pitched and fast paced tones.<br/>
"George, I don't- I don't think she was joking." He mumbled quietly, looking at Daisy who's lip was visibly trembling, despite her obvious efforts to hide it.<br/>
"Oh..." An awkward pause hung in the air as the three of them looked anywhere but each other, George gingerly kicking the shards of glass into a pile type structure.</p><p>"So urmmm.. will you help me? Hide the body I mean, I can't go to prison I just can't! Whatever would Uncle Felix say?" Daisy said, her blue eyes flicking between the two. Since the three of them (and Hazel) had met, they had done virtually nothing except talk about crime, (in a completely fighting for justice way, of course. They may have been kids at the time (a thing they had constantly been reminded of by stupid adults who clearly didn't appreciate the "kids" attempts at saving their life, Daisy thought bitterly) but they certainly hadn't been idiotic.  Well- Daisy thought back to Hazel's frantic stressings over Alexander and her own complete inability to realise she was gay despite it being blindingly obvious for the last 10 years- most of the time)<br/>
Between them, they had managed to read almost the entire Crime Fiction section in not only their school libraries but the National one also, not to mention the weekly Crime Show Binges that had quickly become a tradition between the 4 of them.  Hazel's favourite's were the old "classics"- particularly anything Christie-spired whilst Daisy tended to lean more towards things more modern and upbeat. "Like me" was her explanation.  It was safe to say they were somewhat experts in the field  (and that's without mentioning their actual real life cases.) They had the knowledge, Daisy knew they did- especially George, who was studying biochemistry (his father's influence, Daisy suspected he'd rather be doing Law with her)- the question was, did they have the guts to help? They had solved murders before, in a way it was their speciality, but they had never tried to cover one up.  Honestly, what was the point? Justice was supposed to be served. Afterall, wasn't that why Daisy had decided to study law? But... they could ignore that fact this one time could they not? </p><p>George and Alexander shared a glance, the same way, Daisy realised, she and Hazel did when they wanted to communicate without actually speaking. She stood, trying to hide her impatient anxiety, biting her lip, tasting the metallic sweetness of blood, underlined with the taste of her dark lipstick. Did lipstick have a specific taste? Daisy wasn't sure, but it was definitely...unique. Eww. </p><p>"Fine, Daisy. We'll help." George said eventually, "but if we get caught and arrested I'm sorry, as much as I adore your presence in this house, and the mystery of the missing food that comes with it, I shall turn you in. Honestly, you'll turn me grey before I'm even 25." He grinned, running a hand through his perfectly styled (and greyless) hair.<br/>
"Seems reasonable," Daisy nodded, seeming to relax as George spoke, as if she were a balloon and someone had popped her with a pin. "But not a word of this to Hazel okay? I don't want her to worry, she's got enough going on, understand?"<br/>
George nodded twice as Alexander muttered a "yes.", obviously still processing what Daisy, who wanted to become the world's best detective last time he'd checked and had a squeaky clean record (somehow) to back her up, had said. </p><p>"Good," Daisy said sweetly, gliding over to the fridge freezer, (honestly, George and Alexander's apartment was wayyy to nice for two students, even if one of their dad's was a Sir, and the other's Grandmother a Countess), and pulling out a coke, leaving a rather visible red streak on the handle. Alexander grimaced.<br/>
"So, what's the plan now?" She grinned, jumping onto the kitchen counter, opening the can with a "pssshhh" noise. This time both of the boys grimaced- they were, for some reason, very proud of their kitchen, unlike Daisy and Hazel's which was littered with empty coffee cups (Hazel's) and a various assortment of cans (Daisy's). Housework, obviously, was not their "thing." Or rather, it wasn't Daisy's "thing" and Hazel, with a mix of genuine business and Daisy's bad influence, had very little time for such a tedious task. Alexander had gotten into the habit of clearing up when he came over, but George just straight up refused to enter, calling it a "pig-sty" and dreading the state of their bedrooms. Surprisingly, their living room remained pretty tidy, probably because it only ever got used when the pair had visitors- which, incidentally, was usually just George and Alexander. Or the Junior Pinkertons as they called themselves.  </p><p>"Well... Alex had better get ready to go meet Hazel, I have to go grab something from the library before I forget, and you can have a shower. When I get back we'll start discussing the...urm...case."<br/>
"Sounds like a plan."<br/>
"Got it."<br/>
"My clothes still here from the other week?" George nodded.<br/>
"Washed and ironed,"<br/>
"George Mukherjee, you're a star. And I don't give out compliments very often so you'd do well to remember that." </p><p>Daisy smiled slightly, following Alexander up the stairs. However, instead of weight lifting as she had expected it to when she had arrived on the doorstep, she could feel it sinking, dragging her down. What had she done? Could it really be fixed? The smile remained fixed on her face as the hot water of the shower burned over her, and Daisy scrubbed, trying desperately to remove the feeling of blood from her body.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'll point out now before we go any further, dialogue is not my strong point. I much prefer description to dialogue (as you may be able to tell) so I apologise if they seem slightly out of character. Particularly George in this specific chapter. </p><p>ALSO<br/>I was looking at Oxford courses and came to the conclusion that they would be studying:<br/>Daisy- Law<br/>Hazel- History and English<br/>George- Biochemistry (I wanted him to do forensics but they didn't do it)<br/>Alexander- it took me ages to decide but I eventually came up with either Psychology, Philosophy or History. I honestly don't know, please help.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Alex talks to Hazel, George talks to Daisy.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Before you go any further, I'd like to apologise to Robin Stevens, you as readers, Daisy, Hazel, George, Alexander, the Universe for the complete butchering of their characters I've probably just done.<br/>Dialogue is not my forté. Or, I can say it in my head but can't transfer it to paper. Anyways, it needs work (any tips greatly appreciated!!)<br/>The endings slightly rushed and probably not very realistic but oh well, I was procrastinating.<br/>I do have two more chapters drafted, but idk when I'll be posting them- college has suddenly gotten hectic BUT I will update when possible.<br/>I think that's everything, Hazel swears in this one. Like one time. Chapter 5 or 6 will see more. Probably.<br/>I've probably overused commas too, I get a bit carried away. </p><p>That's all now I promise. Enjoy :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hazel knew there was something wrong as soon as she opened the door. For starters, Alexander was over an hour late. Although Hazel didn't mind too much, in fact it was quite useful as it gave her extra time to study for the English exam tomorrow, it was just so out of character for Alexander not to call. Secondly, he'd knocked.  Usually he just came crashing in, sweeping her up into a hug, usually causing her to lose her place in her book, or spill ink everywhere (to which he would tell Hazel to get a normal pen so that wouldn't happen and Hazel would have to retaliate with "I'm saving the environment, dear, besides fountain pens are just so much better. They're vintage, it's cool.").  Granted, it was annoying but Hazel had gotten used to it by now and found the absence unnerving.  Third and final most, she noticed as she stepped aside to let him in, before running upstairs to fetch her coat, he seemed to be much more restless and on edge. He kept glancing behind him as they walked, as if expecting someone to be following the pair but when Hazel looked all she could see was rain. </p><p>Finally, half way through the main course of the meal, when Alexander had nearly jumped out of his skin following a crash coming from the kitchen, Hazel had had enough. Sighing, she placed down her knife and fork and leaned forwards, resting her head in her hands.<br/>
"What's the matter?" Looking at him through earnest eyes, she took his hand, moving her thumb in a circular motion across his. "You've been jumpy all evening, you've barely touched your food and your conversation is barely plausible to earn such a name. Are you ill? Because I really don't want you to pass it on to me, I have exams coming up you know."<br/>
Alexander looked at her, barely concealing the pain in his eyes. He shook his head slowly. </p><p>"Then what?" She paused a moment, trying to work out what it could be, piecing together all the little clues. Alexander watched her. She couldn't work it out could she? Her and Daisy were close but-<br/>
"Oh my gosh, you're breaking up with me! Is it because I didn't want the other half of your carrot cake the other day? You know I'm trying to go on a diet and despite what you say, carrot cake is not a vegetable.  It is isn't it? You're breaking up with me over carrot cake!" Hazel retracted her hand, starting to stand up.<br/>
"What? No, no of course not!" Alexander said scandalised that she'd been dare think such a thing, whilst also being remotely relieved that she had. He grabbed Hazel's hand, pulling her back into her chair, tucking the piece of hair that always insisted on flying away, back behind her ear.<br/>
"So what's the matter?"<br/>
"Daisy... She told me not to tell you." Alexander sighed, stabbing some pasta with his fork.<br/>
"Oh god! What'd she do this time?" Hazel asked, dropping her own fork. It missed the plate and slid into the floor, but she didn't notice, her mind now completely focused on Daisy.  Her best friend had become much more, how should she put it, wild? since they had started Oxford, truly living up to the promise of 'adult' life she'd made when they were younger. Hazel, personally, couldn't see the point. There were more important things in life than parties and alcoholic beverages.<br/>
"She hasn't..." Hazel dropped her voice to a whisper. "She hasn't murdered someone has she?" She only meant it as a joke, but one look at Alexander, who was staring determinedly at his plate gave her the answer.  "Oh god! She has?! What the fuck was she thinking! And why didn't she tell me?"<br/>
Grabbing her coat and bag, she hurried out of the restaurant, a swirl of colour in the dark night, leaving Alexander alone at the table, looking more than a little shocked that his girlfriend could apparently swear.</p><p>---------------------</p><p>"Daisy? I'm back." George called, dumping his bag at the bottom of the stairs and turning right into the living room. Daisy was sat with her back to the doorway, combing her damp hair into a plait, now dressed in a simple red summer dress (despite it being November, because "it's style Hazel honestly, I can wear stuff other than leather jackets"). A small butterfly tattoo peaked out from between her shoulder blades. George noted the slight redness of skin that surrounded the turquoise wings- it was new.<br/>
"When did you get- you know what, nevermind." He sighed, lowering his arm from where he'd raised it to point. It looked quite pretty actually, from what he could see of it anyhow.</p><p>Daisy didn't seem to acknowledge him, continuing with her hair, staring (as far as George could tell) straight out of the window, watching the few people who braved the rain as they ran to and fro, dodging under trees whenever possible.<br/>
"So, you'll definitely help?" She asked eventually, more of a mumble really, quite unlike the confident bravada the world was so used to. George, who'd let his mind wander to the mountain of work he really needed to get done, but couldn't really be bothered too, started zoning in on Daisy who was still speaking (but had yet to turn around)<br/>
"You realise you're putting your whole career, your whole life, at risk, don't you?"</p><p>George paused. He hadn't actually thought about that, but he couldn't back out now, could he? Alex probably wouldn't, he wasn't one for going back on promises (except weirdly, returning things), and George wasn't exactly a deserter either. But what would his father say, if he got caught aiding a murderer? He'd probably find himself on the streets, grovelling for food and begging for water. The answer was simple really.<br/>
"Yes," he sighed. "I shall help."</p><p>"Good." Collecting her jacket from the floor (now blood clean), she shrugged it on, making her way over to the door. She stopped, as if to say something and then changed her mind, closing her mouth before pulling on her shoes.<br/>
"Daisy, wait." George said suddenly, slightly put off by the girl's strange attitude. A certain serenity had appeared to have washed over her since their last conversation- her eyes sparkled in a way he'd only seen them do in times of excitement.<br/>
"What was the- who," he started, seeming to struggle with the wording. "Who was it you murdered?"</p><p>Daisy stopped, one hand on the door handle, looking slightly surprised. "Oh! I don't know." She shrugged, before disappearing into the night.<br/>
George watched her go, his confusion growing (along with the pit of worry in his stomach) before pulling his phone out and ringing Alexander.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Um nothing much really happens (again) except people talk (again)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Any spelling mistakes/grammatical errors PLEASE let me know so I change them. It's 3 in the morning, I should really be asleep. But I'm not. Obviously. <br/>There's actually quite a bit of swearing in this one. Which is odd because I don't personally swear irl. But these people do. Especially Daisy. Just not in this chapter. Urgh I need sleep. <br/>I don't think there's any spoilers?? <br/>I PROMISE THE NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE MORE EXCITING (maybe)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Hello?"  Alexander answered within two rings, his voice jumping slightly as if he were running. </p>
<p>"Alex? We have a problem."</p>
<p>"Yeah no shit, Sherlock." Alexander rolled his eyes, as he slowed to a walk  Now was really not the time for one of George's sarcastic- point-out-the-obvious moments. Except... how did he know that Hazel had just teared off down the streets of Oxford, out of her mind with anger and worry and fear and every other giant emotion she could fit into her small frame. He was good, but no one was that good.<br/>"Wait, what are you talking about?" He asked at the same time George asked "What do you mean?" </p>
<p>"Hazel... She worked it out George! I don't know how, but she just upped and left and I have no clue where she's gone and-" he cut himself off, knowing all to well this could easily turn into a hysterical rant. Biting his lip, he leaned against the lampost he was just passing, the flickering yellow light enveloping him in an eerie glow. He wanted to go home, it was cold and dark and wet out here, but he had to find Hazel (and work out whatever George was on about now. Which honestly could be anything- that man's brain worked in mysterious ways.)</p>
<p>"Well that's hardly an issue Alex! We're all adults, Hazel knows her way around Oxford and well umm, she might come in useful." He added in a hurry, leaving Alexander more than a little confused.  There was a pause as George took a sip of tea. "Daisy's vanished too." He said eventually, "and that's not all," he added, silencing his friend's splutters. "she said, before she left, that she didn't know who it was. Who she murdered. And she seemed happy too. I don't know, at peace or something. It was weird."</p>
<p>Confusion flashed across Alexander's face as he slowed to a brisk walk. "What do you mean she didn't know?"</p>
<p>"That's what she said."</p>
<p>"So you're telling me Daisy, the Honourable Daisy Wells as she says, has suddenly decided to kill a random stranger, then feel so tremendously guilty that she rushes to us for help, and then decides that actually no, it's all okay? That girl always has confused me."</p>
<p>"No. I mean yes, that is what I'm telling you, but I don't think that's the case."</p>
<p>"Huh?"</p>
<p>George sighed, his impatience that Alexander's mind worked two paces behind his clearly showing. "I- I don't think Daisy killed that person. I think she's been framed.  The problem is," he paused again. Alexander could almost imagine him leaning against the cooker, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I don't know why. Or how we can prove it. To the police. Or to Daisy."</p>
<p>Alexander paled as he listened to George's words. The Junior Pinkertons were about to face their hardest challenge yet. And, although Alexander dared not think it, they may not necessarily like the outcome. He could only hope George was right and Daisy was innocent but personally (and he would never dare voice his concerns out loud) he found himself doubting- Daisy had changed so much since leaving school, it was like the young, determined girl he'd first met all those years ago was no longer there, a mere shadow hidden beneath this new, still young, but much more volatile version of Daisy Wells. It was dangerous, it was stupid and it was most certainly the most exciting thing happening in Alexander's life at the moment. (just don't tell Hazel that.)</p>
<p>------------------------</p>
<p>Daisy walked briskly down the street, sticking to the shadows whenever possible, her years of "spy training" as she used to call it, finally coming in handy. She planned to go home and then... Well actually Daisy didn't know what she'd do then. Wait for Hazel and explain? Or pack her bags and leave? Yes, that might be best. It had been silly going to the boys for help- a panicked, spontaneous reaction that Daisy now found herself regretting. Maybe she should have rung the police, when she woke up, covered in blood, knife at one side, dead body at the other. <br/>"And say what exactly?" She found herself whispering into the wind. "Hi, yes I think I've murdered some one. Come quick?" <br/>No, it was better this way. Daisy just wished she could remember her name. She used to be so good at that type of thing, being able to match names to faces, and rumours, facts and figures on to that. But, try as she might, she couldn't seem to recall a single event that had happened between leaving her's and Hazel's yesterday evening to waking up in a strange apartment this afternoon. It was worrying to say the least. </p>
<p>Leaning against the apartment door, she fumbled in her bag, looking for her keys, when it swung open, causing Daisy to stumble inside. Evidently, Hazel had been so caught up in her own world, filled with Alexander with his too-long arms, to remember to lock the door. Or even shut it properly. <br/>"Great minds think alike." The words fell out of her mouth before she could process what they were. No! Daisy's mind was greater than Hazel's, always had been always will be. Except...  Except Hazel hadn't killed somebody. </p>
<p>A choking sob escaped from her lips as the realisation hit her, pure and undiluted, and she slid down the wall, burying her face in her knees. How had everything gone so impossibily wrong? She'd been on track, well on her way to running her long lived dream of a detective agency, backed by an impeccable Deepdean record, littered with good grades, high attendance and obvious leadership skills. When she had been at school, she had wanted nothing more than to grow up, be free of the shackles young age brought and show the world what a true heroine Daisy Wells was. Now though, she just wanted to go back, before this, before university, before all that ordeal at Fallingford. All she really wanted was to be sat in the grass at Deepdean with Hazel, their blazers discarded, as they discussed their future. <br/>"Daisy?" Hazel was saying, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear- an act which Daisy soon learnt was to become Hazel's trademark. <br/>She could practically feel Hazel next to her, their knees bumping together as they read, heads together, the same book. <br/>"Daisy?" Hazel said again, shaking her friend's shoulder. Daisy frowned, she didn't remember this part of the memory. Oh. </p>
<p>Daisy's head snapped up, as she frantically wiped her eyes on her jeans (not an easy task.) Hazel Wong was stood in front of her, one hand on her hip, one hand still resting on Daisy's shoulder. She had evidently just got back- she was still dressed up, high heels on and the necklace Daisy had bought her for her 18th birthday around her neck. <br/>"Hazel!" Daisy couldn't keep the surprise out of her voice. Usually she never saw Hazel on date night and yet here she was, looking remarkably stunning.  And then her detective instincts kicked in (the delay, she would later say, was caused by the fact that she was surprised that was all.  Not upset. Or that she was a bad detective) and she noticed it. The way her best friend's jaw was clenched slightly, her nose red and her eyes. Oh, her eyes. All red and puffy, the mascara smudged slightly, despite Daisy telling her countless times to "wear waterproof, Hazel. Honestly, it's so much easier".  She'd been crying.  Alot by the looks of it.</p>
<p>"Hazel, what's the matter? Where's Alexander?" She gasped, the role of "best friend" now kicking into play- a feat Daisy still struggled with but, thankfully, was improving on. "He didn't break up with you, did he?  I told you his arm's were a weird length. Never trust a boy with weird length arms, Hazel. Or any boy really."</p>
<p>Hazel shook her head, her lip trembling. "Alexander and I are perfectly fine, Daisy, thank you." She muttered, rather stiffly. Not at all like the Hazel Daisy knew and loved. </p>
<p>"So what then?"</p>
<p>Hazel stepped back, clasping her hands nervously together, almost as if she was praying. She chewed on her lip, actively avoiding Daisy's piercing gaze, quiet for few seconds.<br/>"I know, Daisy. About what you...well umm... did."</p>
<p>Oh. Oh shit.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>More talking. Well, shouting really.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I should really credit Buffy the Vampire Slayer for this chapter. I'm not entirely sure why, but it was running through my head when I was typing it. </p><p>Sorry for any spelling/grammatical errors- I think I got them all but I'm not the best proof- reader.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"I know, Daisy. About what you...well umm... did."</p><p>The silence that followed was deafening, enveloping Daisy, squeezing the air out of her lungs. Slumping against the wall, she held Hazel's gaze, blue eyes meeting brown, determined to try, just try, convince her that it was okay. It was all under control. The only problem was the more time passed, the less certain Daisy herself was of that fact. Her hands were seared with blood now, her palms soiled, her soul ruined. She could feel it burning away, underneath her skin, making it itch and prickle. It was hard to believe that only three days ago, Daisy had sat in a field white with snow, laughing without a care in the world as the afternoon sun that was so rare these days, tickled her nose. She'd made snow angels that day, tons upon tons, joking it was like she was in heaven.  Hazel had rolled her eyes, huddled in her coat, eyes glued to her book, shaking her head at Daisy's (extremely inappropriate) attire.  She had worn a summer dress, the same one she was wearing now, more to show everyone that yes, her wardrobe was more than just leather jackets and no, she wasn't going to be cold, she was a tough old bean. (She had been cold, freezing in fact and had definitely not been overly jealous of Hazel who was wrapped in about five different layers. No, definitely not.) The moment seemed to be a snapshot from another life, one that you might expect to see in a photo album belonging to your gran, or a school textbook. Everything had been perfect. And now it wasn't. </p><p>"How... how do you know?" <br/>Her voice was barely a whisper, too afraid of the answer to really ask. Had Alexander told? If so, who else knew? Is this what Hazel was doing, holding her gaze, her face expressionless, passing the time until the police came storming in, bashing down the door before clasping her shoulder, dragging her arms back into restraints. She doubted they'd be careful, despite the fact she'd only just got her nails done. That probably didn't matter when you were a murderer. Maybe Priestley would come? Daisy had met the Inspector on a few occasions, sometimes helping him with a case (although Daisy would insist it the other way around) or using him to avoid narrow scrapes with authorities around the streets of Oxford. Murder wasn't exactly a "narrow scrape" though, was it? There was a literal great, gaping hole in a body in some grotty apartment saying otherwise. Inspector Priestley would be no help in this matter. <br/>"Did Alexander tell you?!" Daisy urged, the panic that was welling up inside her spilling out as anger, making her words harsh and sharp. Hazel flinched, her arms visibly tightening around herself. </p><p>Great. </p><p>There was yet another pause, even more suffocating than the last.<br/>"I just.." Hazel sighed, breaking the awkward silence as well as her gaze. Staring determinedly at the floor, her shoulders sagged as if the life and hope were being drained out of her and her hands shook.<br/>"I just don't understand, Daisy. I don't understand how this happened. Why it happened?" <br/>She paused.</p><p>"I-"</p><p>"No, Daisy." Hazel said, cutting her off, looking back up. Her eyes were oddly bright, tears once again glistening on her eyelashes. <br/>"Just listen, okay. Can you manage that?"  <br/>If she sounded condescending or patronising, she didn't mean to. She really didn't but she was just so tired of Daisy's antics. She'd been following the taller girl around for years, patiently standing by her side as she charged, headfirst with very little thought for consequences, into whatever life presented her (usually trouble).  It didn't seem to bother Daisy, she continued to breeze along as if they hadn't just stumbled upon another image that would haunt Hazel's dreams for months to come, causing her to wake up, screaming and drenched in sweat at all hours of the morning. University was supposed to have left that behind. It was supposed to be different. Yet here Daisy was, once again haunting Hazel's sleep. The only difference? Now she was the perpetrator, not just the purchaser. The thought rested uneasily in Hazel's stomach; it made her feel quite queasy. </p><p>"Alexander didn't tell me. No one told me Daisy, that's the point. I worked it out because Alexander was acting strange and after years of following you and reading all those stupid crime books you told me too, even though I'd much rather have read, I don't know, Austen or something, I could tell. It was obvious. I worked it out because it was stood there staring at me- the most obvious thing in the world!" <br/>She sighed, raking an ink-stained hand through her hair. <br/>"The point is Daisy, you're my best friend. I'd do ANYTHING for you. Literally anything. And you're in trouble and you didn't even TELL me. You went to George and Alexander and you didn't tell me! You went to them despite EVERYTHING. Despite the complaints about Alexander, despite the crinkled nose and exasperated tuts at George. Despite everything I've ever done for you, you went to them. You told them instead of me."</p><p>Tears streamed down her cheeks as she took deep, gasping breaths, her shoulders shaking. Daisy looked on, frozen to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest, unsure what else to do. Ought she feel guilty? At least more than this? Hazel had always been better with emotions, it was a well known fact, but she was here, basically accusing Daisy of being a shitty best friend, a shitty person infact and she, Daisy, could barely find the effort to care. Was that normal? Perhaps, afterall, she was about to be accused of worse. Much, much worse. Hazel's problems, her issues were beneath her now. No, no, no! That wasn't fair, this wasn't fair. Hazel was just trying to be a good friend that was all. And Daisy had been wrong to go to the boys, but she hadn't counted on Hazel finding out. She just didn't want her to worry. Daisy opened her mouth to tell her as much just as Hazel seemingly regained some composure, the words once again streaming out of her mouth, still perfectly articulated despite the quickening pace and rising decibels and effectively shunning Daisy into perpetual silence.</p><p>"Do you realise how much this hurts me? Watching you just waste your life away like this? Daisy, we aren't kids. We aren't fictional characters. We aren't heros. We're people and we're adults now. We can't make stupid mistakes and pretend it's all okay. It's not, it's not okay. Everything is wrong." </p><p>She paused, possibly for emphasis, as Daisy looked on, each one of Hazel's words hitting her like a ton of bricks. She opened her mouth to say something, but got cut off (again) as Hazel continued, more controlled this time, as if she was being careful on what she said next. </p><p>"Everything's wrong." She repeated. "With this, with life, with... with us. Daisy, this isn't right. We used to tell each other everything. Straight away. You were the first person I told about Alexander, and I was the first person you came out to. And now? We live in the same house, share the same foods, the same bathroom but I feel like we're strangers. You don't know everything about my life because you're never here and I clearly don't know everything about you. I mean you come in at all hours of the night and I just- I just. I don't know what to do, Daisy. You used to be this perfect, angelic, story-book girl to me, and now? Now, I look at you, look into your eyes and I don't even know you. I don't know who you've become. Well no. I do. You're a murderer. You've become the very embodiment of who you vowed to destroy. What happened to you Daisy? What the hell happened?" </p><p>Without bothering to wait for an answer, Hazel stormed past Daisy, grabbing her coat from the peg as she did so, shouldering it on as she went back outside, the wind whipping her hair up and around her face, shielding her from view. The front door slammed behind her. Inside, the oddly relieved feeling Daisy had been feeling earlier, when she had talked to George evaporated as Hazel's words echoed around her head, each round louder and more painful than the last. She'd thought Hazel would help, pull her into one of those hugs that Daisy loved to hate, and stand by her side until it was all okay again. Like a best friend. Like she'd always done.</p><p>"We're strangers." </p><p>Out of everything, those two words, those two, short words, hurt the most. They stabbed Daisy in the heart, the knife twisting around, burying itself deeper and deeper. Wrapping her fingers into her hair, she fell forwards, lying flat on the floor, screaming into the carpet, feet smashing up and down, trying to push, no, beat, Hazel's voice out of her.</p><p>They were strangers.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I started this chapter ages ago, and it's a lot shorter than I expected it to be- I think I had more planned for it. But I've forgotten what it was, so have this much shorter version instead</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Alexander opened his door exactly 3 hours, 24 minutes and 57 seconds after Daisy had come barging in, he almost thought he'd been swept back in time. For standing on his doorstep, was another young woman, beaten by the wind and rain and looking very much sad. However, this was not Daisy Wells, her stature smaller, her attitude seemingly quieter. </p><p>"Hazel?" Alexander said, in the same incredulous tone he'd uttered Daisy's name in seconds before she dropped the bombshell on them. Hopefully, the manner of conversation would be much cheerier this time around; although, judging by Hazel's watery smile and bloodshot eyes, it wouldn't be. <br/>Realising he'd been stood staring silently, mouth open slightly as he thought, he hastened, pulling Hazel in from the raging storm and into the house. She seemed quite unable to move, her feet frozen to the ground as she stood, shaking violently.  This couldn't be good.</p><p>As Hazel felt her coat being pulled off her and thrown over the stairs banister, she contemplated leaving. Afterall, weren't the boys helping Daisy? That's why she'd gone to them was it not? But where else could she go? Hazel had a few friends outside of the "gang"- study buddies more than anything. It was unlikely any of them would appreciate a dripping wet Hazel Wong knocking on their door at 10 o'clock at night.<br/>"Hazel?" Alexander's voice sounded oddly muffled, and Hazel forced herself out of her thoughts with a bump.  Alexander was stood in front of her, George just behind him holding a tube of pringles- evidently he'd just come from the kitchen. They were both watching her with curiosity. Feeling her cheeks burn up, she stared at the ground, turning back towards the door, mumbling an apology for disturbing them as she went.</p><p>"Hazel, wait." Alexander grabbed her hand, pulling her back. "there's got to be a reason you're here, right? I mean, you usually get ready for bed now." <br/>That was true. After spending years waking up at 6 in the morning, Hazel had found the habit hard to break, instead calling herself a 'morning person'. Alexander had joined her in this, although George had originally said that was just because he fancied her (which was true.) George himself was more of a 'night person' although looking at him in the morning, on the rare occasions he got up before 9 (usually if he had a lesson) you couldn't tell. And Daisy? Daisy was one of those people who were so sleep deprived they ran off coffee and adrenaline. Hazel sighed, the thought of Daisy bringing tears to her eyes. Everything was royally mucked up.</p><p>Alexander, noticing the pools of water that were welling in Hazel's eyes, stepped forward, pulling her into a hug. His hands weaved themselves into her hair, the purple, blue and pink streaks twisting themselves between his fingers. When Hazel had first shown it him (complete with fringe to match) he'd been shocked. Not because they looked bad or anything, but more because it was 1 o'clock in the morning and both her and Daisy were giggling outside the pub he'd been called too. The pair had been celebrating "the end of the first week of term", (or rather Daisy had and had dragged Hazel along) and had decided to get their hair done. Alexander had never bothered, nor dared to ask where they could've possibly had it so expertly cut and died at midnight in Oxford. He'd known the pair long enough to know it was just best to go with the flow. Besides, next to Daisy, Hazel's hair looked quite sombre. It was strange how that always seemed to happen. </p><p>Eventually, Hazel pulled away, leaving a wet patch on Alex's chest from her tears. <br/>"I left home." She said, her voice clear despite the slight wobble, the slight snuffle. "Daisy came home, and I just got so mad. We argued, or rather I argued, I yelled more like and then left." She explained in one breathe as she was steered into the living room, where she sank quite naturally into one of the armchairs. Much like everything in the Arcady-Mukherjee residence, this room was quite vintage- from the stuffy armchairs, the large open fireplace and the small record player that sat atop the bookcase. Hazel loved it. </p><p>"And now you need a place to stay?" George asked, finally speaking up, the tube of pringles now empty. At Hazel's nod, he continued. "Well of course you can stay here, Hazel dear, it's not like you haven't before." Ignoring both Hazel and Alexander's reddening cheeks, he continued. "Although before you retire, could we at least tell you what we may have found out?"<br/>Hazel stifled a yawn but nodded, kicking her shoes off and pulling her knees up to her chest. It was Friday, meaning if worse cames<br/> to worse, she could stay in bed longer the following morning. <br/>George waited until Hazel seemed settled before stating, as if it were merely the weather. <br/>"I think Daisy's innocent." </p><p>Hazel merely blinked, fiddling with the hem of her dress and feeling quite self conscious. <br/>"Oh," she said eventually, "right." </p><p>Alexander looked over at her, eyes full of concern. "We thought you'd be happier." He'd said it with a small smile, but Hazel could practically see the disappointment sliding off his tongue. Like butter on a hot knife, to reference the cliché. The truth was, she wanted to be happier, she really did. George was hardly ever wrong, about anything (except the true nature of the relationship between his brother and Daisy's- how he believed they were literally just roommates" Hazel will never know) so basically that left Daisy in the clear. And Hazel in a very awkward position. She'd abandoned her best friend when she needed her most. After everything Daisy had done for Hazel- the most memorable being going to a funeral on a completely different continent- Hazel had upped and left within minutes.</p><p>"Does Daisy know?" She asked quietly. Oh good grief! What if she did, and she'd been trying to tell her and she'd just carried on yelling? Oh no no no no! Hazel ran a hand through her hair, trying not to panic. </p><p>"No." Alexander admitted. Hazel let out a breath of air. "We didn't know what to say. But we can if you want?" He added quickly.</p><p>And that was how Hazel found herself running through the streets of Oxford for the third time that night, dressed most inappropriately for the weather. "At least this time," she thought as she ran across the road, flanked by George and Alexander, "I'm not alone."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>VERY Daisy based. </p><p>Basically, Daisy's thoughts and feelings now she's lying on the floor in her house after Hazel's yelled at her and left. Idk I'm bad at summaries</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Somehow this has ended up like 2x the length of any other chapter, but I just had so much fun writing it. <br/>Most of it I wrote at like midnight on different days so sorry for incorrect spellings.<br/>We also find out some little backstorys of Daisy and Hazel in this one (hopefully they're clear). I should probably point out that for the purpose of this fic, not everything is strictly canon (sorry Robin!!) <br/>I couldn't decide whether or not to keep the boarding school, so I tried to keep it vague- so it's your choice! Daisy and Hazel didn't go to school with Kitty, Beanie, Lavinia, Amina etc, although they do end up going to college with Alexander and George. (The others will show up dw!) They also weren't exactly the most popular at school, and I'm not entirely sure when Daisy and Hazel first met (agewise) either- please let me know your thoughts in the comments?<br/>Also because I have the terrible habit of rarely rereading anything I've written, there will probably be some continuity errors so I'm so sorry!! <br/>I think that's all, I don't think there's any spoilers for DSS. Enjoy! x</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Strangers. </p><p>Try as she might, Daisy couldn't get the thought out of her head. It was burning itself through her, through her brain, through her blood. They'd never been strangers. Not even when Hazel had just started at school, and Daisy didn't even know her name yet, they weren't strangers. Their eyes had locked, and there had been an instant connection. Daisy felt it straight away, and she knew Hazel did too. The pair had been inseparable ever since. Daisy didn't even try to count how many years it had been, they'd all blended into one. Hazel would know. Hazel always knew stuff like that, things that Daisy deemed worthless such as Valentine's Day and Anniversaries. Except, Hazel wasn't here anymore. It wasn't like Daisy wasn't used to being alone- before Hazel, she didn't really have any friends. There was no one there to talk to, share inside jokes with or sit on a bench and eat chocolate fingers out of a pencil case with like on that advert on the telly. Daisy hadn't minded, it wasn't like she didn't get on with people, it was just they didn't understand her. And then Hazel came, and Daisy had found everything she'd ever been missing as a child. And now she was gone. Daisy had pushed her away, shut her out, just like all the other girls used to do to her, and Hazel had left. Probably never to return again. </p><p>"It was only a matter of time," Daisy thought rather bitterly. Hazel had grown a lot in the last couple of years- not physically, she still remained stubbornly short much to her chargin, but in terms of confidence. Gone were the days when Hazel would hang onto Daisy's every word, follow her around, both of them ignoring the cruel laughs and jeers their classmates threw at them. <br/>"Don't you have a mind of your own? You're like a sad, pathetic puppy. Besides, aren't you afraid you'll catch it?" <br/>That conversation, if it could even be called such a thing, had hurt the most, to both of them. It had only been a week since Daisy had come out, and whilst most of the school seemed to take it well/ really couldn't care less about Daisy Wells' social life, there were, as always, a few idiots who seemed to think that being gay meant you had a disease. Like being sick. Daisy had held her nose in the air, acting, as usual, like she didn't care, but later she'd clung to Hazel like a limpet, sobbing into her shoulder as the younger girl stroked her hair and handed her a squashed fly biscuit.<br/>"I'm not a pathetic puppy, am I?" Hazel'd asked later, cuddled up under blankets, her voice quiet, eyes wide.<br/>"Of course not, Hazel. Out of the question." Daisy had replied instantly before going back to painting her toenails as if nothing had happened. </p><p>And then they'd met Alexander, in a small, overcrowded Record Shop of all places. Neither of them even owned a record player, so why they had been there, Daisy was still fuzzy. Hazel, ever the romantic, had fallen "head- over- heels" with the lanky blonde, three records clutched to his chest as if it were a matter of life and death. That term had been the scariest for Daisy, who was still shaken over what had happened at her family home and then what had happened at Hazel's family home. She had thought she was loosing Hazel, just when she needed her most (awkward crush-y feelings were arising in the form of a certain Martita Torrera, the new drama trainee teacher) and had not liked it one bit. She had watched, feeling quite helpless, as Hazel secretly texted under the desk whilst the teachers rambled on, looked sadly at her own phone, refreshing Snapchat but to no change. <br/>"Hazel🔍❤️<br/>Delivered 5hrs ago" <br/>It was the same with Instagram. And with normal standard text messages. Daisy had sat back and watched helplessly as Hazel, with her new- found confidence had started to leave her behind.</p><p>And now she had again. (Although this time it was much more understandable, Daisy had to admit.) For the first time in a long time, Daisy felt as if she were the lost puppy, desperately trying to find some love as it's family grew up and grew bored.</p><p>"Promise to never leave me? Or at least, always come back?" It had been a dark night, nice and warm thanks to the recent heatwave. Daisy and Hazel had sat in the park, on the swing set as they always did, their slight bump in the autumn long since forgotten. They spent more time on those damn swings than they did in their beds. If their parents ever found out, both would be grounded into oblivion.  Hazel'd turned, looking at Daisy from beneath her hat. <br/>"Of course not, Daisy. Out of the question." <br/>She'd grinned, and Daisy had sat in awe for a second. It was strange, seeing this version of Hazel. The Hazel who was more confident, more brazen. The Hazel who had a sort- of boyfriend, a whole other life Daisy barely knew about. Daisy had been in wonder then how she had managed to become the lost puppy, and laying on the floor like this, she wondered it again. </p><p>Daisy needed Hazel more than Hazel needed Daisy. Hazel, sweet, innocent, hard- working Hazel belonged here, on the old cobbled streets of Oxford, buried in musty books Daisy imagined the library held. Daisy, on the other hand, did not. She had never been one for studying, relying on her photographic memory and charming smile to get her through school, but had gone to college with Hazel, followed her to Oxford because they were best friends. And that's what best friends did. On reflection, maybe it would have been better if she hadn't. If she'd parted ways with Hazel after GCSEs were over and done with. No. That wouldn't have been good- college had been one of the best experiences of Daisy's life and she could not, would not, imagine that without Hazel. </p><p>"What are you doing Friday?" Daisy had said, waving her phone in Hazel's face, as she caught up with her after class (because as much as Daisy loved Hazel, she refused to do English Literature- too many romance novels and not enough crime) <br/>"Same as every Friday, whatever your doing," Hazel had replied, grabbing Daisy's arm before she could hit her in the face, "why?" <br/>"Because," Daisy had grinned, eyes twinkling with excitement. "we're invited to a party." <br/>Hazel had some doubts about going, not entirely sure what to expect- neither had been invited to any  high school parties, much to Daisy's disdain and Hazel's silent relief. The only problem Daisy had had, was what to wear. <br/>The party itself, had been pretty average, but at the time it was the best thing Daisy could possibly imagine. She'd joined in with everything, eventually finding Hazel chatting amicably with Alexander and his friend George, where she had slumped against her, her brain a slosh of alcohol. Okay, so maybe that hadn't been the greatest experience ever- passing out in the downstairs bathroom of her house hadn't been her proudest moment, but the point was; Hazel had been there. Hazel had looked after her, dragging her home, texting Bertie on tips for avoiding the parents. Without Hazel, Daisy was unsure how she would have survived. </p><p>It looked like she was about to find out. Figuring there was very little use lying on the floor, she pushed herself up, ignoring the growing pain in her head. Nothing some paracetamol and some water couldn't fix. Not that they had any. Daisy padded into the kitchen, eyeing the photo on the fridge. Taken over a year ago, it pictured the four of them (once Daisy had gotten over Alexander's too long arms, he wasn't that bad, she admitted grudgingly, and George was fascinating), the two girls in the middle, beaming. The first day of university (how they had all been accepted into Oxford would once have arisen Daisy's curiosity, but honestly, they were by far the smartest in that dump they called a hometown). Daisy, stood in the kitchen, stared into photo-Daisy's eyes, barely recognising her. </p><p>"Smile!" Hazel's little sister, May had shouted, camera in hand, as she clicked away, picture after picture as her sister and friends entertained her. Most had turned out with a fingers over the lens, but this one, the one that was now stuck on their fridge had been perfect. A moment in time, perfectly preserved. Daisy had laughed along, pretending not to care that her parents hadn't bothered showing up, that it had been Bertie (once again) driving in from Cambridge to help her out, taking the day off of work. And she certainly had been excited to finally, finally, be free to do her own thing, in a city where no one knew her, no one knew what happened at Fallingford. Daisy, of course, had not accounted for newspapers. (I mean honestly, who reads them anymore?)<br/>About 2 weeks after starting, Hazel had burst into Daisy's room (they had still been in student accommodation at this time) to find her stood in the small bathroom, scissors in hand, roughly cut strands of golden hair on the floor, tears streaming down her face. <br/>Hazel had gently taken the scissors away, leading Daisy to the small bed, sitting her down until she became (somewhat) calm.<br/>"What happened?" <br/>"I don't know. I just... I was so fed up of people talking!" Daisy had wailed, rather embrassingly on reflection. <br/>Hazel had made a sound of understanding, before dragging Daisy to the nearest hairdresses. And that was that. Daisy hadn't been golden-blonde, or had hair longer than shoulder length since. She'd got her nose pierced since this picture too, and her tongue. Aunt E had gone slightly crazed when Daisy and Hazel had popped in after visiting Bertie last summer. Daisy briefly wondered what she would say about the tattoo- maybe it would be best to keep that secret for the time being. May would appreciate it though, Hazel was always saying those two together were mischievous little devils. A force to be reckoned with. What a shame she would never see that cheeky face again.</p><p>Slowly, Daisy removed the photo from the fridge, a big white gap amongst a sea of pictures, notes and magnets, gently folding it in two and tucking it into her bra (she had no pockets, what else was she supposed to do?) To be perfectly honest, she wasn't entirely sure what she was doing, she just had to get out of the house. It would be nice to take a few keepsakes- just in case she couldn't make it back. It would probably be best to stay away anyway; that way Hazel couldn't be charged with aiding and abetting a criminal. A criminal. The thought left a sour taste coating the inside of her mouth. Weirdly though, it wasn't as unpleasant as Daisy would've liked. In fact, it was not unsimilar to sucking a lemon- not advised, but not overly unpleasant. The initial shock had gone now, really it had started to disperse in the shower back at George's, leaving Daisy with a weird sense of tingling. Did some part of her enjoy what she'd done? Perhaps. One thing was for certain though. The less time she remained in this house, the better. Was that police sirens she could hear in the distance? Or was it just in her head? </p><p>Daisy climbed the stairs, slipping into her darkened room, the curtains still tightly drawn from where she'd slid out of bed yesterday morning, pushing hair out of her face as Hazel's angered screams (at the kettle no less) drifted through the hall. (Stressed Hazel was both hilarious and deadly and Daisy still had a hard time of remembering that fact- a slipper had been chucked her way yesterday after a small giggle escaped her lips. How times changed.) Would it just be easier to hand herself in? Probably, but Daisy had always liked a challenge. And besides, what was she supposed to say? <br/>"Hi, yes, I'd like to confess to that murder you found this morning. No I don't know who it is or why I did it." <br/>That would probably bring more questions than answers, and Daisy really didn't want to be talking to more "doctors". No, it would just be easier to run. She liked running anyway- especially cross country. </p><p>"Keep up Hazel!" Daisy had always loved PE lessons. It was the only lesson she had really been able to give her all, without getting made fun of. She had found solace in watching the faces of her classmates fall, awestruck and out of breath, as Daisy breezed past them, as if she were merely out for a Sunday morning jaunt. Hazel, unfortunately, always seemed to lag behind, slowing down into a stumbling walk after the first lap. The first couple of times, Daisy had tried to stay with her, usually resulting in the pair finishing at least 5 minutes later than everyone else (talking slowed them to a basic crawl), so Hazel had let her go. Afterall, they always came back to each other in the end. </p><p>Back in her bedroom, Daisy threw some clothes into one of her many bags, sticking to the dark colours as much as possible. Shifting hastily through the jackets and shirts hung up, and the t-shirts and jumpers folded haphazardly below, her fingers paused, dancing on the soft material, worn and slightly frayed with age. She pulled it out, smiling softly to herself, hugged it to her face. The letterman jacket Hazel had bought her from America when she went one holiday with Alexander. Daisy, unfortunately, had to stay with Uncle Felix so had not been able to go- although, that had saved her from playing third wheel for a week so maybe it was a good thing; somehow, Hazel couldn't help but sideline Daisy when Alexander was around. It was infuriating. But she had brought back this jacket, and Daisy had squealed loudly because it was red like the ones on Glee and no matter how hard she pretended the show was "nonesense", she loved it. And Grease. Daisy had no idea where Hazel had managed to find it, and hadn't bothered asking, slightly scared it would turn out to have once belonged to Mr Daddy Long Legs. ("Urgh, no" Daisy shuddered, she'd have to come up with a better nickname for Alexander than that.) <br/>Daisy smiled fondly, still holding the jacket up to her face. She'd worn it for months after she'd got it, eventually slipping into leather, and a "new stage of Life" but to be quite honest, she'd forgotten it was here. </p><p>Zipping up her bag and slinging it half heartedly over one shoulder, she took one last, sweeping glance around her room, at the posters and the banners and the pictures stuck to the wall, at her mess of a desk and her unmade bed. She looked, and she memorised before throwing the jacket on the bed, turning out the light and heading back downstairs. </p><p>It was time to face the big wide world. And for the first time in Daisy's entire life, she was completely alone.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>SOMETHING ACTUALLY HAPPENS!! FINALLY!! </p>
<p>this was going to be very Hazel- centric, which I guess it still is, just not as much as the Daisy one was Daisy- centric. This chapter has a bit more of a plot though and we come across a familiar face :)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm not gonna lie, I've kinda lost the plot. (of the story, not me personally although I did get emotional over a toothbrush yesterday.) ANYWAY, there will probably be some continuity errors because of that and I'm SO sorry. </p>
<p>Also, this chapter is slightly shorter because of that and also, I'm quite busy atm but I love writing this too much to stop completely.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Despite being almost 20 years old, Hazel Wong still felt an odd tingling sense of excitement as she ran down the dark streets of Oxford, flanked by two boys. She should have grown out of the enthrallment that came with breaking rules by now, should have grown past the love- hate relationship she had with such occurrences. Curfews were no longer a thing in her life, she was no longer 14, climbing up drainpipes to slip back into her room because her and Daisy had sat on the swings all evening and lost track of time. So why, when she was grasping the hand of her boyfriend who had been a solid constant in her life since she was 15 (although only officially since she was 17), and had said boy's best friend running alongside her, did she suddenly feel like a daredevil teenager again. It wasn't like she was about to break into the head teacher's office to do some "thorough snooping" as Daisy liked to call it. They were just running down the street. </p>
<p>Oh right yeah. They were also going to try and cover up a murder. Maybe that was why. </p>
<p>Hazel stumbled, falling into Alexander, who hastily caught her as they skidded to a holt. In hindsight, she probably should've changed her shoes- she had enough experience to last a lifetime about running in unsuitable shoes. Daisy had even had to go to A&amp;E once. That one had been hard to explain- not just because Daisy was clearly not entirely sober, but because it was also 1 o'clock in the morning. The result? A month long grounding (which neither of them had followed. Daisy Wells really did make Hazel reckless.) <br/>"What do you think?" George was saying, causing Hazel to zone her focus back down to present- day drizzly Oxford. "Safe way but longer, along the roads, or quicker but probably dodgy way down the back allies?" <br/>Hazel closed her eyes, deep in thought. Normally she'd go safe, no hesitation; she had encountered enough life threatening situations thank you very much. But she needed to get home, needed to find Daisy and explain. And more importantly, change her shoes. And maybe get something to eat; her stomach was growling, thinking longingly of the half eaten plate back at the restaurant. <br/>Taking a deep breath, and trying to ignore the impending sense of danger that gnawed at her stomach, Hazel's eyes flew open, landing on the waiting faces of her two companions. <br/>"We'll take the short cut." </p>
<p>In retrospect it was a good job they did, because, despite walking through sticky sludge they'd rather not think about, it meant that they saw the  assembled vehicles and growing crowd down the street, and were able to join, pushing to the front. Hazel felt her stomach turn as she eyed the police cars and ambulance, reporters buzzing around them like bees. This could only mean one thing. <br/>"Looks like we found the crime scene." George's low voice confirmed her theory. Hazel shivered, but this time it wasn't because of the cold. Up until now, she'd been hoping it was all some kind of sick dream, brought about by stress and lack of sleep and she'd wake up in bed, her best friend leaning over her with a plate of waffles because "you need to get your brain in gear, dumbass". But this, this felt all too real, and no amount of pinching her arm was going to wake her up. But, if this was real, what else was? Was Daisy telling the truth, or was George? Hazel desperately hoped it was the latter- the was just something... not right about the whole situation. The Daisy Hazel knew wouldn't just murder someone, it went against everything she ever stood for. The only other option Hazel could think of was she was covering for someone, but that didn't sit right either. Daisy, for as long as Hazel could remember, had always (surprisingly) told the truth (when necessary), often awarding her some rather cruel nicknames in high school.  The only person Daisy would ever cover anything up for is Hazel, and she was quite sure <em>she</em> hadn't murdered anyone. (Or maybe she had, when she was asleep and had no recollection of doing it because she was... asleep.  No, that was ridiculous.  Wasn't it?) And the nonchalance George had described. That just wasn't Daisy. Which made sense, and provided hard stead evidence, to George's theory. But then, why had Daisy confessed? That wasn't like Daisy either. And! Why had she told the boys and not her? Hazel, even with everything that was seeming to happen all at once, was most irked by that  they were supposed to be best friends! They were supposed to tell each other these things.  The whole ordeal was just downright confusing. Had her best friend been acting different lately? Something that might explain, or at least shine a light on what was happening. Maybe Hazel had done something? Maybe she'd said something, causing Daisy to slip away?</p>
<p>As she racked her brains, trying to think what she possibly could've done, she realised the pressure on her hand and shoulder had disappeared. George and Alexander had disappeared. Leaving Hazel in a sea of bustling people, all trying to push to the front to see what was happening. (Nothing). Great. Trying not to think about the last time she had been left alone in a crowd- let's just say someone got hit quite heavily with a bag, and it wasn't Hazel- she weaved her way to the side, figuring she'd wait somewhere down the vaguely familiar street, out of the way and just call them. Thank god for mobile phones- Hazel often wondered how they would have coped should they have been born in say, the early 20th century rather than the 21st. </p>
<p>As she neared the edge of the crowd, Hazel felt her eyes flicker over to a figure, hunched up on the floor underneath the gentle glowing of the street light. Curiosity getting the better of her, Hazel wandered over, hoping that whoever this was, wasn't going to attack her. She'd had enough surprises for one day. <br/>"Are you okay?" Hazel asked, squatting down next to the figure. There was something vaguely familiar about the light brown hair that was breaking free of its straggly plait. Figuring it was just someone she'd seen around, she offered her hand as her legs began to seize up. To her relief, the other person took it, and together, they stood up. Hazel felt a wave of self- consciousness wash over her, feeling remarkably over dressed (the other girl was only wearing dungarees, huddled under a parka coat that seemed miles too big for her) but she shook it off. There were more pressing issues at hand. </p>
<p>"Thanks, I, erm- I'm so so- Hazel?!" She stopped mid- sentence, blurred eyes raking over Hazel's face. Hazel stopped; she knew her name. Which was embarrassing for Hazel could not in the life of her remember hers. Her confusion must have shown on her face as the other girl blushed slightly. <br/>"Umm.. I'm Rebecca. Well Beanie really.  No one calls me Rebecca. Except my parents. I umm work for-" <br/>"Beebody magazine!" Hazel interrupted, snapping her fingers together in a very non Hazel- like manner, as her memory came back. Hazel had met Beanie a few months ago, when Daisy and herself and somehow managed to find themselves short of money and had gone looking for a job. Although only there for a week weeks, Hazel had thoroughly enjoyed her time at the magazine, working with Beanie and her chatty counterpart. Gossip (which was basically all the magazine was on) wasn't really Hazel's thing though, preferring fictional writing and she had left once money had started coming through again. She hadn't seen Beanie since. </p>
<p>"Are you okay?" Hazel asked again, noticing the tear tracts on Beanie's cheeks. "where's-" Hazel racked her brains, trying to remember the name of the other half of the duo. "Kitty?" <br/>To her horror, the only response she got was heavy sobbing, Beanie falling against Hazel, (slightly awkward due to the height difference), who had no choice but to try and comfort the girl. Checking her phone for messages, and finding none, Hazel glanced around at her surroundings, the years of "detective" training Daisy had given her honing in. The crowd seemed to be dispersing slightly, probably due to the police who were slowly pushing people away, but there was still no sign of Alexander and George.  A silhouette of a sign swung above the police officers heads and Hazel squinted, trying to read the peeling letters in the dark. </p>
<p>Oh. </p>
<p>Oh no. </p>
<p>Everything seemed to click together at once, like a completed jigsaw, or what books referred to as a "lightbulb" moment. The reason the street seemed so familiar, the reason she had a sobbing Beanie Martineau clinging to her and the reason why she was alone. The world spun and Hazel squeezed her eyes shut, trying to remain upright. </p>
<p>They were stood outside the small publishing house. The police were outside the publishing house. Which could only mean one thing.</p>
<p>It was Kitty. </p>
<p>Daisy had killed Kitty. Hazel temporarily forgot about the theory of Daisy's innocence as the whole world came crashing down. Daisy had not only commited full- blown murder, but had committed said crime on someone Hazel vaguely knew but, to her recollection, Daisy did not. Why? What was going on? She needed Alexander to come back. Spotting a bench further down the street, Hazel mumbled to Beanie and began shuffling her way towards it, not trusting herself to walk properly. Beanie obliged, and the pair collapsed on the bench, Beanie a shrivelled mess and Hazel feeling like she'd woken up that morning and been abducted by aliens. </p>
<p>Where had the time gone when her biggest worry was if she was going to pass her exam or not? She had never felt this scared in her entire life, not even when Daisy, running from a very angry man with a Bible had nearly slipped and fallen off a building. Ok no, that was pretty scary, but at least she knew where she and her best friend stood. Now, she just felt alone. And that was the scariest thing ever. Wrapping an arm around the shivering girl next to her and trying to ignore her own chattering teeth, Hazel pulled out her phone. She just hoped Alexander would reply. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The most pointless chapter ever. </p><p>Written in first person, present tense because apparently, I can (very badly)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm not going to lie, this chapter is probably the most useless thing you'll ever read. </p><p>I started it, got busy and then writer's block, then busy again. And then I forgot the plot so it's just kinda... Words. And then, believe it or not, I forgot how to do that properly too. </p><p>I posted it though, just because and so I don't forget this fic exists.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hazel has disappeared. Or rather, Alex and I have left her behind. Somewhere. I presume she is still stood where we left her, rooted to the spot in a growing crowd of people, staring up at the building we (that is Alex and I, or the Junior Pinkertons as we like to call ourselves in moments like this) are currently trying to break in to. It is a risky business, especially with so many coppers buzzing around, but, as I pointed out to Alex, it's for the greater good and therefore is cancelled out. </p><p>I am quite convinced Daisy Wells is not a killer. She is merely confused, which in itself is a mystery that must be solved no sooner than we clear her name. Which is why we must find the body, or at least the crime scene, to gather as many clues as we can before it is destroyed. </p><p>Alex is beside me, looking faintly green as we stand in the shadows of the narrow corridor, watching the police bumble around the yellow tape they have set up. <br/>"We need a distraction." Alex breathes into my ear. I am, of course, quite aware of that fact, but it is good to know he still has his detective head on. It is both infuriating and remarkably funny how he can be so dedicated whilst feeling so ill. Hazel, according to Daisy, is quite the same when it comes to exams. What a coincidence. </p><p>I stand there, trying to think of what to do (why must it always be me springing into action- I understand Daisy's complaints, I really do).  I have formulated a somewhat plan, and am about to tell it Alex when a loud chorus of Super Trouper rips through the air and judging by the fact Alex has gone scarlet, it belongs to him. </p><p>It can only be Hazel calling, for I, quite obviously am stood here and Daisy's ringtone has been Lady Marmalade for as long as I can remember (unfortunately, if I was ever told the reason why, I have long since forgotten. It is just one of those things.) The song for Hazel changes every week. I wish I was kidding, but the pair have never had a 'set' song, merely turning the radio on a Monday morning and using the first song that plays. The week of Gangnam Style still haunts me till this day. </p><p>"Alex, either answer it, or turn the blasted thing off." I hiss, as the pair of us hurtle down the stairs before we get caught. So much for stealthily squeezing through the window. I managed to grab a quick glance before my feet caught up with my brain and started running, but part of me severely wished I hadn't. </p><p>The room (or what I could see of it) was covered in splashes of red, a pale young girl of about our age splayed against the wall furthest from the door, very obviously dead. It's no wonder Daisy was such a mess. Something flashes against the light, but I have no time to work out what it is as I run, Alexander whispering into his phone as he goes. </p><p>"No, we're fine. No, yes. What? No, Hazel we're fine honestly. Look we'll be there in two seconds... You've what? Hazel? Hazel, I can't hear you? Hazel? Hay-?" <br/>Alexander swears as he looks down at his phone. An black screen stares obsinately back. </p><p>We rush down the last few stairs, no longer caring if anyone, police people or news reporters, see us, needing to get to Hazel before she predictably assumes the worse and spirals into mass panic mode. A camera flashes in my face and I push it away angrily, following Alex to where Hazel is stood, a girl stood beside her.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Woohoo an update finally! <br/>Only two months later, because I definitely didn't forget this existed. Nope not at all. </p><p>also I've realised I've written a lot of "what if they were best friends and then weren't anymore" recently. I have no idea why, it's not just here but idk I kinda like it. </p><p>Anyway enough of my mindless blabbering.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Things were happening. Exactly what things will remain unapparent because the writer of this fic (i.e. Me) forgot it existed and has now forgotten the plot. So let's say Hazel has gone back to her house to find Daisy again (hopefully) and get some proper shoes so she doesn't kill her feet. </p><p>By the time they reached Hazel's front door, Alexander was basically carrying her, whilst George did... Something, and Beanie hurried along behind, looking terrified. Perhaps it would've been best she stayed where she was, but Hazel refused to leave her, not in the state she was in. So now she had joined the party. </p><p>Hazel banged on the door, only for it to swing open beneath her hands. She stepped inside, sighing in relief as she kicked her heels off, throwing them into the jumbled pile of shoes that sat by the door. She didn't even have to look to know Daisy's scuffed up trainers weren't there. It didn't stop her calling out for her though- Hazel had been begging Daisy to get rid of them for ages, there was a chance, no matter how unlikely, she had finally thrown them in the bin. </p><p>Stepping into the kitchen however, the call fell silent on Hazel's lips. It was a mess. A complete utter mess. And... There was something missing. Hazel found her eyes drawn to the fridge, a white expanse meeting her tear filled eyes. The photo. Her favourite photo. That photo hadn't moved from the fridge since, well, ever. And now it was gone. Hazel knew it was stupid, that Daisy would have it, but some part of her, some part that wasn't thinking clearly, was angry. Angry and hurt. Because that wasn't Daisy's photo. It was theirs. Together. And now it was gone, leaving a blank space and another reminder their friendship had fallen apart. </p><p>A strangled scream escaped Hazel as she flew up the stairs, running past her bewildered friends, seemingly without noticing them. She had been meaning to go to her own room, get changed and go out, once again, onto the darkened streets of Oxford. But, when she reached the top of the stairs, her feet seemed to gain a mind of their own, and forced her intl Daisy's room. When was the last time she had been here? Fully awake and functioning at least? A couple of days, weeks maybe? It was definitely more of a mess than when Hazel had last been here, if that was even possible. Daisy, evidently, had ransacked the place. </p><p>She stood on the threshold for a minute, staring into the room that told her best friend's life. When had she had a rearrange? Hazel couldn't remember her doing that. Perhaps she had been out. Yes, she must have been out. There was no way she completely missed Daisy moving heavy furniture around. </p><p>A row of trophies sat on the bookshelf, hiding the true crime books from view. Hazel walked over, her fingers running over the cold metal. Swimming trophies, dance trophies, trophies that meant nothing to Daisy but everything to everyone else. To her parents, to the school, to the other kids, whose faces all fell when the strange Daisy Wells won yet again. And then there, right in the middle, the only trophy Daisy ever cared about. Hazel smiled, running her fingers over the makeshift lettering of Daisy's name and then her own. She was surprised she still had this, that it still stood up. </p><p>They hadn't been very old when they made it. Maybe 10, 11? Yet Hazel could remember the day as clear as if it was yesterday. They had been at the park (again), sat a top the climbing frame this time, hidden from view by the hard, colourful plastic. Some teenage boys were kicking a football around a little way a way, shouting words they shouldn't really have been shouting in a children's park. Daisy had grinned at Hazel, before rummaging in her backpack, pulling out a some sandwiches wrapped in tin foil and one of those small box of coco pops. </p><p>"Picnic time!" She had laughed, even though their lunchtimes were in an hour. But they'd shared the sandwich, and the Coco pops (Hazel was never quite sure why Daisy had brought coco pops for lunchtime, but she wasn't going to complain- she wasnt allowed chocolatey cereals). They'd drunk water from their water bottles, pouring it into the lids and drinking it in one, like their parents did with the alcohol. And when they'd finished all that, Daisy had turned, all sparkly eyed, to their litter. </p><p>"Let's make something!" <br/>"Like what?" <br/>"I don't know Hazel, that's the game." <br/>"Umm...okay then. What about a trophy?" <br/>"A trophy? What would it be for?" <br/>"I don't know, I thought that was the game." <br/>"Touché Hazel, touché."</p><p>So they had made a trophy, slightly lumpy and not at all stable. Hazel had ripped some paper from her notebook, and scribbled their names on it and Daisy had then stuck it hap-hazardly to the Coco pops box with some cherry Chapstick. And then Daisy had put it in her bag, and they'd run home for their lunches. </p><p>Hazel hadn't thought about the trophy in a while, with its unspecified award ("so we can win at whatever we want to Hazel!"). Daisy had obviously repaired it at some point, with wads of sellotape and actual glue. But everything else was exactly how Hazel remembered it. Shame the same couldn't be said for the rest of her life. </p><p>Turning, Hazel collapsed on the bed, burying her face into Daisy's pillow. Her fingers found something soft and she tugged at it bringing it up to her tear stained face. </p><p><em>Daisy's jacket</em>. </p><p>Another thing Hazel hadn't thought about in a while. Daisy had been so excited when Hazel had given it her, that Hazel didn't dare tell her it was actually only Alexander's. Hazel suspected she knew that already anyway. </p><p>Pulling her legs up onto the bed and rolling over so that she was laid on her back, staring at the glow in the dark star covered ceiling, Hazel pulled the jacket on, breathing in the familiar vanilla and coconut smell. </p><p>This was ridiculous. She knew it was ridiculous. Daisy wasn't dead. Hazel didn't need to be mopying like this. She needed to be out there, hunting Daisy down so she could tell her what George thought. But she couldn't move.  She just wanted to stay here. </p><p>She sighed, pulling out her phone, opening Snapchat as a matter of habit. One of the group chats was going wild, no doubt about their test tomorrow, but Hazel ignored it, instead scrolling down. </p><p>"Daisy 🌼☠️<br/>Delivered 3 days ago" </p><p>Would they ever get back to how they used to be? </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Daisy has a friend.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I completely changed the plot so no I don't really know what's going on either. Which is why this is kinda short.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Daisy was sat in the darkened corner of the pub, nursing a glass. It was only coke, rather than a scotch, or her usual choice in beverage, deciding her hands were already shaking too much to risk anything stronger. She sighed as her phone lit up again, vibrating against the sticky wooden grain of the bar. Hazel again. Daisy contemplated answering it, just this once, before pressing down the off button and ending the conversation before it began. Hazel had made her opinion perfectly clear. Or had she? Daisy was no longer sure whether or not she'd imagined it. </p>
<p>Her phone lit up again, a picture of Mr Tickle emblazoning the screen; Alexander. Daisy ignored it, as she had been doing all evening and pulled out a small notebook from the inside of her jacket pocket. It had been a while since she had handwritten anything, preferring to type on a phone or laptop where everything was in the same place, but her phone was only on 23% and she'd forgotten to bring a charger. Not that there was anywhere to plug it in. Daisy bit back a scream as the phone lit up again, instead pressing down the power button until the phone turned silent and the screen turned black. </p>
<p>Is that what the person she had killed last night been like? </p>
<p>Daisy shook her head violently, placing her glass next to her phone, not bothering to ask for a fill up. She couldn't be here much longer anyhow; she'd seen on the news they'd found the body, which only meant a matter of time before they found her. Had she killed the person? She supposed she must've. It was a bit strange that she had no recollection of it though. Maybe she'd blocked it from her memory, scared and ashamed. Yes, that would be it.  Still, it was a bit disconcerting that she couldn't remember.  She always remembered. </p>
<p>Turning back to the task at hand, Daisy scribbled some notes in her notebook. She would simply solve the case. She'd solved things like this before, back in high school and college, long before Oxford was even a concept. Daisy ignored the little voice in her head. The one that told her she'd always had Hazel by her side to make deductions. It didn't matter, Hazel wasn't here now. Daisy mightn't be as good as writing up cases, but she was by far the superior detective (if she ignored the niggling voice in her head again) when compared to her smaller counterpart. </p>
<p>"Hello?" </p>
<p>Daisy dropped the pen and snapped the notebook closed, concealing the scruffily written words and looked up. She knew it wasn't Hazel, but still, her heart sank when she looked up into the eyes of the woman she'd first met a few nights ago. </p>
<p>"Amina, hello." Daisy said politely, shifting slightly in her seat so that her legs were pointed away from the dark haired young woman as she sat down.  The body language may seem cold, but Daisy wasn't in the mood for talking. Amina, however, seemed to have different ideas. She lent forwards on her elbows, sliding Daisy's now empty glass towards the bartender with a snap of her fingers. </p>
<p>The bar tender, who Daisy merely knew as "L" scowled, but refilled Daisy's glass wordlessly. Daisy hoped Amina hadn't annoyed them, Daisy liked this pub and L usually supplied her with free or at least discounted drinks towards the end of the night. </p>
<p>"So, Daisy Wells. I must admit, I wasn't sure you'd be here tonight." </p>
<p>Daisy stiffened, not even acknowledging the use of her full name, or how Amina knew it. Instead, she focused on the question. </p>
<p>"What's that supposed to mean?" She asked with fake confidence, only revealed by the crack in her voice; the rising intonation coming out as a mere squeak. </p>
<p>"You know what I mean." Amina replied, raising one eyebrow and leaning so close to Daisy, Daisy could count her individual eyelashes. Daisy daren't blink. Amina leaned back again, her face splitting into a smile. "You did well Daisy Wells. Very, very impressive." </p>
<p>Then she got up and left, leaving Daisy alone to her thoughts and a drink she didn't want. </p>
<p> </p>
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